What if death never came?
by SketchyTheWhaleLord
Summary: What if you were just a child? What if the reaper dressed all in red never did reap your soul? What if you sort of wish he did until...


As you lay there lonely, you remembered your parents laughs and how they were so kind.  
You tried and tried to sleep soundly but something was terribly wrong.  
The old ticking of the grandfather clock seemed to slow. You had been terribly ill and you knew your time was coming fast.  
You just hoped you could keep your eyes open to see the reaper.  
You had always been curious about that kind of stuff,  
how they took your soul; why?  
It was all a big mystery.  
"Who was to reap your soul?" You wanted to know badly.  
You grabbed your teddy bear, it was an old worn thing. It had an eye missing and patches all over it.  
You hugged the doll and tears started to fill your eyes.  
"No death..." You whispered.  
"I don't want to die." Tears were streaming down your cheeks and crashing onto the floor.  
You sat up weakly and tried to stand, but you failed.  
You hit the floor with a soft thud.  
Nobody would want to die and you were at such a young age.  
As the clock struck midnight, you smiled.  
It was your birthday, maybe, just maybe, someone would visit you.  
You sighed the hope that someone would visit you was very irrational, nobody cared.  
Those who did care were dead.  
Your time was coming fast.  
You felt the pace of your heartbeat begin to rise and fall.  
You counted "1...2...3" A flash of red.  
"4..5...6...7" The sound of a chainsaw starting.  
You felt your heartbeat stop.  
You choked slightly.  
Nothing happened, you just stayed there silent. Not breathing, unblinking, and unmoving.  
You put your hand to your throat.  
Why won't death come?  
Your vision began to blur.  
Death should have taken you,  
before something else did.  
You were terribly weak and struggled to keep your eyelids open.  
Tears poured, you didn't breathe.  
You were only five years old.  
This traumatized you.  
Death had been your escape, but the doors were closing and the light was fading.  
You could only take a stab in the dark now.  
Nothing seemed worth it.  
Nothing.  
Your vision was gone and you felt time pass.  
A soft singing, it sounded happy but somehow... sad...the singing stopped.  
You heard a sawing noise and a deep sigh.  
"They were so young." The voice that sang the song said.  
You weren't breathing, somehow you couldn't.  
You didn't know how to breathe.  
To show your life you opened your eyes and spoke softly, "Hello?".  
It was quite soft and normally wouldn't be heard but the only other sound was the cricketing sound of the floorboard as the man walked across the room.  
He stopped.

You knew who it was.  
The man, he was an undertaker in London.  
You had heard stories about him from your mother and he was the one to make the coffins for your parents.  
"Hi." You said softly, looking at him with a friendly smile.  
He walked towards you and held the back of his hand to your chest, only to find no heartbeat.  
He gave you a strange look. "Well, what do we have here?"  
You had an odd feeling you shouldn't trust him.  
You rose to your somewhat aching feet and gave him a reassuring smile.  
You sighed.  
"Death never came, but why?" you thought.  
You heard him giggle slightly as you closed the door.  
Where were you to go now? Your home was not your's and you couldn't just sleep on the ground at nightfall.  
You reached your hand into your pocked and pulled out a red laced cloth, you always loved this cloth.  
You never actually knew where you had received it. Another mystery.  
You held onto the cloth tightly and with your other hand checked your heartbeat.  
Of course nothing. You were dead you just couldn't accept it.  
Letting out somewhat of a sigh you walked down the street.  
You were heading towards the graveyard.  
You approached the old ground. Everything near the graveyard always seemed dead but somehow full of life.  
It was hard to step towards your parents headstones.  
A tear rolled down your cheek and dropped onto a somehow living purple rose.  
The rose had a cut stem and had been there for a year now.  
Tempted to pick it up, you kneeled down beside it to get a better look.  
You had a feeling it wasn't something you should mess with so you left it there.  
Smiling softly you curled up into a ball by your parents graves and slept there 'till sunrise.

-~10 years later~-

Running with a ring in your pocket, you turned into an alleyway.  
If you were to get away with it this sapphire ring might just get you past the next week.  
You pulled out the once-crimson-stained cloth and started to polish the gem.  
You flew backwards as a sharp pain hit your stomach.  
Dropping the ring you grasped for it, it wasn't there.  
Before you knew it you were pinned against a wall.  
You smirked slightly. "Just kill me".  
Crimson eyes staring into yours; the man dug his fingers into your wrist.  
"Sebastian! Let them go!" Said a voice belonging to a young boy standing a few feet away.  
You were dropped onto the ground with a loud thud.  
You licked the blood off your wrists spitting onto the cloth in an attempt to dye it red once again.  
"Such filth." The boy sighed.  
You stood and tucked away the cloth.  
A cold glare was all you gave them before turning around and cursing to yourself for letting them take the ring back.  
You attempted to grab the boys wrist.  
If you could get him in the right position the butler would be forced to give you the ring.  
Your arm was grabbed by his butler and you were brutally slammed into the ground.  
Tears welled up in your eyes. You pulled yourself together and stood weakly; trembling you whispered your parent's names.  
Taking a small blade from your own pocket you unexpectedly shot it at the wall.  
"BASSY~!" Someone shouted.  
Sebastian instantly gave a pained look.  
You just sat there confused.  
Grabbing your red cloth, you rose to your feet and looked up to the reaper dressed all in red.  
The red on his clothes matched your memory of the old faded cloth.  
You held it up in front of you pairing it to his jacket.  
He looked down at you.  
"Who is this, Bassy?" He approached you and inspected you.  
You weren't paying much attention. You were just staring at that old cloth; rubbing the fabric in between your thumb and finger.  
Grell took notice at the lack of life.  
He noticed how pale you were, how your heartbeat was non-existent and you had no breath.  
"Hon, what's your name?" He scanned his to-die list furiously.  
"That I cannot tell, death."  
You tugged lightly on your once-red cloth to make sure it wasn't going to tear.  
You dropped it on the ground.  
"You forgot something, death." you whispered.  
"The cloth?"  
"No." with that you left.  
Grell was left with a hint of curiosity, but mostly noticing that he needed to get to work if he didn't want William to hit him.


End file.
